brutal – Page 8 – Contemplating the divine

It’s a tonic for the troops!

And Charlie ain’t no Nazi
She likes to wear her leather boots
‘Cos it’s exciting for the veterans
And…

Women, eh? Sometimes there’s no pleasing them. You try to apologise, and they just run you over with a tank anyway. Still… I guess we wouldn’t have them any other way, eh chaps?

Cathie might need a new lawyer in her stable. She gets through slaves quite quickly – doesn’t look after them properly, truth be told.

She has a plan.

This is the delightfully delightful Miss Tiffany Naylor. ‘A dominatrix based in Milton Keynes.’ To be honest, for me that’s a hard limit right there. But it would be worth it, to meet her.

I suppose there’s little chance of either being a blow job? No? Worth asking…

I suppose any Radio 4 listeners amongst you will want to point ou that I got the apostrophe in the wrong place. Radio 4 listeners are like that.

The rest of you have no fucking idea what I’m talking about, have you? I don’t know myself sometimes, to be honest.

All your praises they shall ring if it be your will … to let me sing

Erm… sorry, was I supposed to be typing something down here?

Well it matters to the bug. Still, I suppose it’s quite low down in the grand scheme of things. No point paying attention to the feelings of worms or cockroaches, is there?

Yes. How awful it must be for guys with huge cocks, who are into SPH, did you ever think of that? Poor souls…

And I’ll be thinking about her (Lady Sophia Black, ladies and gentlemen!)

The nickname’s a bit unfair. It’s not his fault his breath smells of piss.

Women on the verge of a nervous beatdown

Topping from the bottom again, eh? She’ll soon have that sorted out.

One way or another, they do usually bend quite a lot if enough pressure is applied.

Points of view are for observing in a femdom relationship, not for expressing.

Or better, depending on what you’re into.

That’s actually most things, if you think about it. Of course, you’ll have to ask permission.

See what’s on the slahhhb

I see you shiver with contemmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmplation!

Ah, were would we be without Mistress Eleise de Lacey, eh? I mean, my sheets would be a lot cleaner, just for a start.

Yes, that would work.

Goodness, there she is again. How does she do that? Unless she has a twin…

If the examining officer can still bend her elbow, the search isn’t complete.

Oh, sometimes one should just give in to temptation.

Commanding respect

Or the one before that.

I like to leave these details to my wife too. She’s better at that sort of thing.

Return of an old friend.

On the plus side, they do get lots of great shots of dommes looking really pissed-off. On the minus, a lot of expensive cameras have been smashed. Oh – and the photographer’s been hospitalised once or twice too.

Kind of a once-in-a-lifetime experience, huh?

Feeling her pain

…it’s just something she likes me to do from time to time.

Strictly speaking, that’s probably against school rules. I mean, it’s not as if the chalk’s her property, after all.

It’s up to you whether you sign of course – and feel free to take your time. She can always do you after lunch, if you can hold out that long. Not a problem.

Thank you. Ahhh.

That sounds very fair.

Glad to be of service. It’s the highlight of my month, actually.

Because she says so

…is there ever any other reason?

It’ll help take your mind off the pain, while you’re waiting, anyway. Nothing like ‘more pain’, to do that.

How exciting! I wonder who it is?

It’s good to talk these things through. And then to smack them out.

You’ve either seen the movie or you haven’t.

Can’t stop staring at.. the …gloves…! Oh, er, right! Dinner. yes, right away.

Truth or…

The worst
thing I’ve ever done to a boy? Oh…
I’ll probably take the dare, erm –

No! No, I got it. I’ll go with truth!

OK, so there
was this, like, really cute guy a couple of years above me? And he really wanted to feel my breasts?

So I told
him that I’d let him, if I could kick him in the balls. I mean, I was joking! You know?

But he said
OK! I couldn’t believe it!

Well, we
just stood there for a bit, and for some weird reason I just found myself
saying ‘How many times’? And he’s like
‘Just one, bitch’. So I’m like, ‘If you
can take ten, I’ll let you go all the way’.
And he’s like, ‘OK, but you have to stop if I say so, OK?’. And I’m like ‘Sure!’

Anyway, he
made me promise to stop if he said so – and for a joke, I made him agree that
he had to say ‘Please Carly, I’m a wimp and I can’t take any more, please
stop.’

So he opened
his legs a little bit, and he breathed in and out for a bit and then he looked
at me – he was looking kinda scared! – and was just, like, ‘OK!’. Real tense, like that, you know? Just: ‘OK!’.

And I kicked
him really hard, right in the nuts. I
was wearing these kinda goth boots?
– even though I’d already started going emo back then, but you know,
they were cool – and the toe went right
between his legs so the top of the boot smashed right up into his balls.

I don’t
think he’d expected me really to kick him as hard as that! Especially not for the first one. Because his eyes bulged out, and all the
breath came out of his body, and he staggered back and he’s trying to gasp for
air? And he looks up at me with these
horrified pleading eyes – I can still see them now – and I think he was just
about to try and say something when I kicked him the second time!

And of
course, after that I went through with the whole thing. I mean, I knew he wanted me to stop. But he could hardly even scream, he was in so
much pain – let alone say the complicated sentence we’d agreed. So I could just keep going. Once he got as far as ‘PleaseCarlyI’m
awimpand’ – but then WHAM!. you know, and he shut up again.

And – I
guess the worst thing about it was that I’d planned that? You know?
Cos I’d seen boys who’d taken, you know, a softball in the nuts and I
knew what it would be like? That’s why I
made him agree he had to say such a long thing if he wanted me to stop. And then I just had to make sure I went in
really hard for the first one.

For the last
four he was writhing on the ground – I think he was trying to crawl away just
using his arms, but of course that didn’t do him any good, and those were the
hardest of all.

And I left
him there. I figured he wouldn’t want to
try collecting on his part of the deal that day!

Anyway… I
heard he went to hospital, for a long time, then they moved away. I was kinda worried for a while that I might
get into trouble, but I don’t know – maybe he didn’t want to admit to anyone
that a girl did this to him? Or maybe he
was just scared of me. But anyway,
apparently he told his parents and the police that these three big black guys
had done it.

I thought
that was kinda mean. Huh? I mean, why say they were black guys? There’s so much, like, prejudice and hatred
in the world, you know? That was
nasty. Made me realise he wasn’t a very
nice guy. If he ever did show up and
want to collect his side of the deal, I’d just be like, no way! I don’t fuck racists! What an asshole.

Anyway, I
guess that’s the worst thing I’ve done.
I mean, there was another thing a few months later that was a bit worse,
but that wasn’t just me. I had my friend
Amy with me. She’s really cool – you
should meet her!

OK! Your turn.
Truth or dare.

You know…I’m
going to have to think of something really embarrassing to ask you. Cos I’ve got such a great idea for a dare for
you! There is no way you are leaving tonight until I’ve made you do it.

Let me think…

Good news bad news

Now, my dear prisoner, I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?

The bad news? Yes, I suppose that’s a good idea. Hear that first, to get it over with.

Well, the bad news is that the rest of your life is going to be spent down here, and it is going to be utterly miserable. Your hands will stay cuffed behind your back like that forever, and the hobble chain between your ankles isn’t going away either. You won’t be able to stand up, or even crawl, but you should be able slowly to wriggle around, like a maggot, to get across this cold stone floor. You can scream and shout if you like. No one will hear you. Not even me, and there’s no one else for miles around.

There’s more bad news too. In a moment I’ll be leaving, and I’m going to switch off the light and close the door. So it’ll be pitch dark down here – you’re now in the last few moments of light that you’ll ever experience.

That’s right – look at me. This is the last time you’ll ever see anything. Remember me.

More bad news, I’m afraid. You’re going to die down here. But not immediately. There’s plenty of water and I’ve left some piles of food around. Some of the food’s fresh, so if you can find it, as you inch around in the dark, I’d eat that first, as otherwise it’s going to start rotting. But there’s quite a lot of dry food that should be edible for a few months.

But then that’s it. One day, you’ll be painfully wriggling across the floor in the dark; sniffing and licking wherever you go to try to find more food, and there just won’t be any left. But of course, you’ll never be sure that you’ve found it all, so you’ll probably keep trying, as you get weaker, hopelessly dragging yourself back and forth trying everywhere in this pitch black cellar, until you starve to death – alone, in the dark, with no one to care.

So that’s the bad news.

The good news? Oh – erm, yes, now there was some good news. What was it? Goodness, it’s completely slipped my mind. Oh I don’t suppose it matters. Whatever it was, I’m sure it didn’t really concern you anyway.

Goodbye.

The lady in the pictures is Stella van Gent.

Timing is everything

So I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to try out Graham’s invention. Of course, you can’t see, because it’s behind you and you’re strapped so very tightly across the whipping block. But back there, the mechanical arm holding the cane is fully retracted, so the machine’s ready to strike. When it does, the electric motor drives a small wheel into rapid motion, increasing tension for a second or two, before the arm is released and the cane lashes across your bottom.

It’s that little delay that makes it work, actually. Poor old Graham kept on trying and trying to propel the arm immediately to make the stroke, but you can never get enough force to get it to lash at the speed you need for a proper impact. It took him ages to find a solution. I was getting quite frustrated actually – he was probably getting more strokes from me manually than he was testing each day on the machine. But that delay lets the speed build up and then – whoosh, and it cracks across your buttocks. So you’ll hear a little whir for a second or so, before you hear the cane whistling through the air. I’ve asked him to work on that whirring sound – it would be better if there weren’t any warning. I’m sure he’ll be able to sort it out, with the right encouragement from me. Still – it canes hard and that’s the main thing.

So after the stroke it winds back again, going a little bit up or down so it doesn’t keep caning the same spot. Graham himself suggested that little feature, actually, after the first time I tried it on him. Twelve on exactly the same spot makes you ever so sore. He started work on the vertical motion straight away after that! Anyway, I can set it to go steadily up or down, or just let it go randomly.

Oh, you’ll find out. The pattern should be clear by stroke three or four or so.

I’m so pleased with this. I mean, I’m not going to stop caning boys manually, obviously! But sometimes it’s nice just to hand the job over. And there’s something quite relentless and brutal about being caned by a machine… the way it just keeps going, no matter what you say or how piteously you cry or scream. I mean, so do I of course, but boys still always start making a fuss after a while, in the hope that I’ll go easy on them. Boys can be so stupid. Well, this machine takes that hope away.

You look worried! No…maybe worried isn’t the right word. You look terrified. Well, so you should. You’re getting twelve, good and hard – and I’ve already programmed them in. Nothing you can do.

But you know, I haven’t told you about the cruellest feature yet. Do you want to know?

I can programme the speed. It can go at any speed I like. So what do you think is about to happen, hmmm?

What?

No. Oh for goodness’ sake. You boys are so unimaginative. You think that the worst thing I could do to you is to make it go as fast as possible? Twelve strokes in quick succession – THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK?

Well, it could do that. And obviously that would be sheer hell – it would certainly make you scream. But that’s not what I’ve done. Quite the opposite. Can’t you guess?

Between now and – oh about nine o’clock tonight – you’ll receive twelve strokes. It’s just gone noon, so that’s about one every 45 minutes. But they won’t come regularly. The intervals have been set to be random – anything between 30 seconds and two hours. You will get all twelve – you can depend on that. But you’ll never know when the next one’s coming, as you wait there hour after hour. Until you hear that little whir anyway… then you have a second or so to brace yourself. It’ll be so much better when Graham’s sorted that out…

Yes, you see? I thought you would. It’s much worse than getting twelve all at once, isn’t it?

Do you think the randomness makes it worse? I wasn’t sure about that. I like the thought that you’ll be on edge for all of that time, never knowing when – or precisely where – the next stroke will land. But on the other hand, it might be nice some time to try spacing them evenly – say, one every hour. And you could have a clock in front of you, watching the seconds counting steadily down. Or no clock, and you’d be frantically estimating whether the hour is nearly up. Maybe we’ll try that next time.

Hmm? Oh, we’ve already started. I switched it on about five minutes ago. Every five minutes you have about a one in nine chance of a stroke. It could have happened already. But it didn’t. It will, though. That’s certain: you’ve still got all twelve to go. It could happen any second… or not for almost two hours… it’s just up to that little microchip. Out of my control anyway, and certainly out of yours.

Hmm? Yes, I know it’s cruel. I am.

Anyway, it’s not much of a spectator sport, so I’m going to go about my day and leave you to it. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving the house, so I’ll be able to hear you scream from time to time. You’ll be quite secure here, though. And if you start to feel thirsty – and I think you will, if you keep sweating like that, or if you start crying – just remember that it’s supposed to be a punishment and you deserve it.

See you.

Oh – you know, I just had a thought. Maybe instead of designing out the little whirring sound, Graham could design it in! So that – I don’t know – about five times out of six or so, there’s the sound but no stroke. Wouldn’t that be fun? I’ll have to have a word with him.

Enjoy the rest of the day.

The lady here is of course the formidable and beautiful (and formidably beautiful) Mistress Cassie Hunter, The Hunteress. Visit her web site if you’re feeling interested and want to see more, visit her in person if you’re feeling guilty and need to suffer.